burning bright in poetry

if I must fail
I will fail not through lies
or through playing the games
rather I’ll fail
through aiming too high
if either way
we’ll all eventually die
I’d rather go
the Icarus Route

and okay
sometimes in the dead of the night
I’ll look at the pages of my work
and they only look like madness
sometimes everything
anything
everything I do looks like fever dreams
the ravings of a lost idiot
cobbled together with baling wire and glue
screamed out to a universe insensate
unable to even see
how everything I hold dear
is just crazy and stupid
because its not listening
because there’s
nothing there to listen
to begin with

but
like
if that’s the case?
all the more reason to fly
all the more reason to try
I’m no good at anything else
I’m not even fake good
at anything else
best to barrel forward and see
if maybe I can bend the world’s will
to believing my thoughts useful
by sheer force of making reality
into the shape of my fitful dreamings

if total despair
is the logical endgame
of knowing the truth?
that I’m a long-winded fraud?
a spent meanderer?
a see-through seeker?
then fuck it
best to not despair
and chase the sun
until I melt away

because
here’s the thing
it’s better than hating myself
into a dull little hole
until I just stop

if either way either
I’m just gonna die
I’d rather splat than wither
I’d rather fly

for a little while
even if it’s flying down